


spoils go to the winner

by mandadoration



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Choking, Cunnilingus, F/F, Fluff and Smut, More! Cara! Smut!, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22522333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandadoration/pseuds/mandadoration
Summary: You’re one of the first friendly faces that Cara Dune sees when she first arrives on Sorgan after her early retirement, and now she thinks that this isn’t so bad, especially when you’re so pliant under her fingers.
Relationships: Cara Dune & Reader, Cara Dune/Reader, Carasynthia Dune/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 169





	spoils go to the winner

Sorgan was not the most attractive of places, especially when compared to Cara’s home planet of Alderaan. It was too humid in the summer and fall months, and winters were short, villages and towns were spread far apart, and if you wanted any luxury items, you would have to track someone down who was willing to bring supplies to you. The ground was in an almost perpetual state of too-soft, tracking mud wherever you would go. But Alderaan was no more, and the New Republic had designated her to peacekeeping and riot control. That was definitely not what she has signed up for, so she left in search of something else. She dabbled in mercenary work, but soon realized it was just not her thing.

So she would have to settle for Sorgan. 

It wasn’t all bad, she supposes. Nobody thought twice about Sorgan. It was severely underdeveloped and villages and towns were spread all over the planet with a bare skeleton of a proper government. It would be easy to implement herself into daily life. Daily life just manifested itself into a local fighting ring at the tavern.

“C’mon,” the Zabrak growls. He makes an inviting motion with his hands, baring his teeth as they circle each other. He had been the reigning champion in this little town for quite a while, it seems like, seeing as how the villagers cheer for him and how they had bet on his win over her. The locals look at her with some disdain or with distrust, unsure of this new person that had dropped in. That was fine because Cara was determined in proving them wrong. 

Cara uses the harness keeping them together to tug the Zabrak forward. Using that moment of him stumbling, she punches him, and her knuckles catch on the brow ridge. Unfortunately, he lashes out blindly at the same time, and he catches her jaw as he reels back. Cara’s teeth clack together uncomfortably, and she’s dragged forward as the Zabrak backs up. He’s trying to buy time as he tries to gather his thoughts and think past the pain and where she spots a trickle of blood get in his eye. Cara dashes forward, shoving him hard and hooking her feet under his ankles before he can react, and he goes down hard, hitting his head against the table behind him. Both he and Cara freezes when one of his horns snap off against the edge, eyes following its path until it rolls to a stop next to her feet. 

The Zabrak howls, and lunges for her, but he’s telegraphed the move and she just moves out of the way, watching with disinterest as veins start popping out against his skin. Cara vaguely recalls how prideful Zabraks are of their horns. At this point, he’s not only fighting to win, but to exact revenge for his wounded pride. But in his rage, it’s easy to take him down. Cara merely blocks a sidekick, digging her nails into his leg and yanking him forward, slamming her elbow into his gut, following him all the way down and imagines herself trying to break through and hit the ground. The Zabrak goes down easily, the fight literally being beaten out of him as she feels the soft snap more than hears it, and he lays there groaning as the tavern goes silent at her victory. She strolls over to the table where the credits are, and collects them all. 

Cara sits down, winded as she feels the tender spot on her jaw and the ache in her hands. Nothing she can’t handle, and with how she’s counting her winnings, she could indulge in a bacta shot if she really wanted. But the mark of a fight is something she prides herself in. Besides, the Zabrak was looking much worse for wear. A few of his friends, she assumes, is giving him a pep talk as the Zabrak glares at her from across the room with a venomous glare. For a moment, Cara thinks that maybe the Zabrak will come after her at some point during the night, and then Cara is reminded that she needs to find a place to stay before he could try and track her down. A figure blocks her view and a cup of some shimmering blue drink is placed in front of her. Cara looks up, intent on questioning, and comes face to face with a warm, inviting smile of  _ you _ . Her mouth goes dry and all thoughts of the Zabrak are wiped from her mind.

“Spotchka for the winner?” you offer softly. 

You look absolutely wonderful, with the light of the setting sun framing your silhouette in a halo-like glow. Wisps of hair escape from your carefully swept-up hairdo, sticking to your face and neck as a light sheen of sweat covers your body from the humid heat. To try and combat the temperature, she sees that your blouse is sinfully sheer and open at the top, where her eyes linger as she follows your breathing. Your sleeves are rolled up to your elbows, but she wishes that she could see more. Somehow, you make the awkward frock look good. Your eyes are sparkling, devoid of distrust or malice she’s seen in the other villagers, and Cara is sure you’re drinking her appearance in just as much as she is. If anything, there’s wonder and admiration in your heated gaze. And ever elegant, Carasythia Dune asks:

“What’s spotchka?”

Your laugh makes Cara uncharacteristically flush, face hot as your eyes crinkle. “Spotchka is a local drink on Sorgan. It’s good,” you insist, pushing the cup closer to her. You look around for your boss before you take a seat across from her, leaning forward eagerly. “You’re new, aren’t you?” you ask, voice low. There’s a local accent playing on your lips. “I’ve never seen you here before. Where are you from?” Your face shows such reverence that Cara can’t help but find herself wanting to answer every single one of your questions despite the fact she had come to Sorgan to forget most of her past. 

“I worked with the Rebellion,” she says automatically, and your eyes widen, flickering to the shock trooper tattoo across her bicep.

“Wow,” you breathe. You gnaw on your bottom lip and Cara looks down to watch. Her grin is wolfish as she flicks her eyes back to yours. It’s clear from your curiosity that interesting folks didn’t come through here often, if at all. “Did you arrive today?” She nods. “How long… How long will you be staying?” you ask, leaning on your hand. A drop of sweat disappears into your cleavage.

“As long as you want me to,” Cara finds herself saying, and she preens at how you blush. The redness crawls from the tip of your ears all the way down your neck, and Cara knows she’s still got it. She wouldn’t say that she was a flirt when she was in the Rebellion, but she won’t deny that she had taken pleasure in knowing that there were plenty of individuals vying for her attention. Now, she was giving it to you with the barest of encouragement. “I’m actually looking for a place to stay. You have any recommendations?” You blink.

“There’s an inn a few buildings down,” you tell her, pointing in some direction that Cara doesn’t care to remember. “It’s a modest place, but I know the owner. I could get you a room if you would like.”

“That would be great,” Cara says. Maybe Sorgan wasn’t so bad. If you were here, of course, she could bear to stay for a few months while she got her credits and figured out a solid plan. Wooing you would just be a bonus. “What’s your name?” You give her that wonderful smile again, telling it to her, and Cara repeats it, trying out how it feels in her mouth. “I’m Cara.” She reaches a hand towards yours where it’s lying against the wooden table, and she sees you open your mouth to say something when--

A customer waves their hand and calls you over, interrupting whatever you were going to say. You stand up, and Cara immediately misses your closeness and realizes how close she actually was, having instinctively leaned in while you were talking. “How much do I owe you for the spotchka?” she asks, offering up some amount of credits. It’s definitely more than she actually owes you for a simple mug of spotchka. You push them back to her.

“On the house,” you murmur, and you linger your touch on hers for longer than necessary, feeling how coarse and rough her hands are compared to yours. “For the winner of the match.” You wink, flashing her a bright smile as you turn away to serve more customers.

Cara will win a million matches if it means she gets to see that smile again. 

\--

True to your word, there’s a room already waiting for her when she finishes the spotchka and heads over with her winnings. She settles down and puts what little things she has in the corner as she surveys her surroundings. There’s a bed pushed up against the wall on one side, two small nightstands flanking either side. A desk and chair is facing the only window opposite of the door, and a small wardrobe sits next to the door to a bath. Like you had said, modest. She pulls off her armor and strips down to her tunic and pants.  _ At least the bed is comfortable _ , she thinks as she flops down on it. When she does, a dull pain throbs in her side. Cara has little faith in the medical prowess of such a small town, so she starts thinking of who could bring in medical supplies for her when a knock sounds at the door. Probably the owner, or maybe even the Zabrak she had beaten today. She thinks that maybe if she’s quiet enough, they’ll leave her alone, but scrambles up when she hears your voice.

“Cara? I brought some things for- Oh, hello,” you interrupt yourself, surprised when the door swings open. You’re holding rags and a bowl of water, and there’s a jar tucked under your arm. “Hope I’m not intruding.”

“No, never,” Cara says. She moves to the side and sweeps an arm out. “Come in.” You put your supplies on the desk and pull out the chair, moving it so that it faces the bed. “What brings you here?” You motion for her to sit down. 

“You have a nasty bruise,” you say, shrugging as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Thought I would help you.” Cara laughs softly and takes a seat on the bed obediently. 

“You help out all the winners?” she asks. You shake your head as you pick up a rag and dip it in the warm water, tilting her head up so that you can wipe away the sweat and grime on her face. It’s nice. Your touch is gentle as you focus on the dirt smudged across her nose, dragging the rag down to sweep across the purpling bruise on her jaw. 

“No,” you murmur. “Just you.” 

“Why’s that?” 

You don’t grace her with an answer, just a quiet hum, as you turn around to drop the rag on the table and pick up the jar. Inside, there’s some sort of pale green cream that you take a dollop of and spread over the bruise. It tingles for a moment, but then dissolves into a blissfully cooling feeling as an herbal smell wafts up to her nose. You rub it in for a few moments before pulling away to wipe your hands on the rag. You come back and tilt her head again to see it better in the fading light. 

“Are you gonna kiss it better?” Cara asks, breaking the silence, and although she has a joking tone, she wouldn’t mind if you did. You sweep a thumb over her cheek, a tender look on your face.

“You ask a lot of questions, Cara Dune,” you note coquettishly. She laughs, but the sound is quickly swallowed by your mouth capturing hers in a searing kiss. Cara immediately puts her hands on your waist, bringing you down so that you sit in her lap. Your mouth is wonderfully soft and pliant, willing and open when she prods her tongue in you. She digs her fingers into your hips, ears perking up when she hears you let out a small whimper, grinding down into her thigh. You thread your fingers through her hair, pulling back with a dazed look in your eyes as your chest heaves with each breath.

“Questions, hm?” she mutters, pressing fleeting kisses against your neck. “If I remember, you were the one asking the question earlier today.” You let out a breathy laugh that melts into a moan when she nibbles at a soft spot under your ear. You untangle your fingers from her hair to fully pull away. Cara lets you go with a final squeeze, disappointed but tries to mask it with a look of want. You must’ve seen it anyways because you smile coyly at her as you start untying the bodice of your frock with deft fingers. You had no intention of leaving.

“Lay back,” you tell her softly, slipping the straps off of your shoulders as you let it pool around your feet, leaving you in your sheer blouse and thin leggings. You kick your boots off, following Cara up the bed as she leans back against the pillows and pulling pins out of your hair to let it flow over your shoulders. Cara grabs the back of your neck and brings you down to kiss you again, tucking the hair curtaining your face behind your ears. She’s thankful that the nights on Sorgan are cooler than the days because she’s starting to sweat from how her body burns up. Still trapping you in a kiss, she trails her hands down your body, kneading your breasts for a short moment before she’s pulling at the hem of your blouse. Unfortunately, you have to pull away to take off your top, but you do so as fast as you can so that you can press a kiss to her jaw, the side without the bruise. As you do, Cara slides your leggings over the swell of your ass. She doesn’t bother with taking it off all the way before she cups her hand around your mound over your panties. 

The moan you let out is just  _ sinful _ . 

You grind into her hand, sighing as you tuck your face into the crook of her neck. “Please,” you muffled voice says. 

“Please what?” Cara asks teasingly. 

“Touch me.”

“I am touching you,” she says, and digs the palm of her hand into your clit. You keen, high and whiny as you pull her hand away so that you can shimmy out of your panties and pull them and your leggings off, flinging them into the darkness of the room. As much as Cara wants to continue teasing you, one look in the dim light at your blown pupils and bruised lips convinces her to bring her fingers back to your clit. A ragged breath forces itself out of your lungs as she rubs it, bringing her other hand to play with your nipples, rolling the bud between her thumb and forefinger. The angle is awkward as you’re on top, so Cara flips you over, somehow managing not to roll the both of you out of the bed as you let out a surprised gasp. 

Your hair splays under your like a halo, and Cara swears that angels must be real with how etheral you look. She resumes rolling and tugging at your nipples as she slips two of her fingers down to your wetness, spreading it all over your pussy as she grins at the hitch in your breath. She slips two fingers in, pumping it in and out languidly and teasing your clit with her thumb as you writhe under her ministrations. “That’s it,” she whispers, dragging her hand from your breast, up your neck where her rough hands wrap around your throat. Your skin is slick with sweat, and you let out a soft swear in a language she doesn’t know when she curls her fingers in you. Your hand comes up to grasp her wrist as the other one fists the sheets under you. “You’re doing so good, baby.” You whimper from the praise, and Cara slips another finger in you. Her pace quickens, rubbing in fast, tight circles as she keeps hitting that beautiful spot in you, marvelling at how you clench around her fingers. With how you’re moaning, you’re close. “You gonna come?” she pants. Cara tightens her grip around your throat, her wolfish grin widening when she can feel your racing pulse under her hand. “You gonna come for me?” Tears are glistening in your eyes as you nod desperately. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you choke out, hips bucking up as that tight coil in your winds tighter and tighter. “Please, Cara I-- Maker I’m so  _ close-- _ ” Cara curls her fingers one last time, pressing your clit as she sucks a hickey right above your left breast as she commands you to cum. White explodes behind your eyelids as you groan in pure pleasure, digging your nails into her wrist as your eyes roll to the back of your head, letting a few tears slip through from the feeling of it all. She lets you ride it out, slowing down the pumping of her fingers as you start to wind down. Her hand releases its grip from your throat. You grab the hand that was just in your pussy, bringing up to your lips and sucking on her fingers, still wet from your cum as you moan around them. 

“Holy shit,” she breathes. You look up at her through tear soaked lashes as you pop her fingers of your mouth. You lay there staring up at her with those doe eyes, chest heaving from the aftershocks, and Cara knows she’s not done with you yet. She pulls away from you light grip and slides down the bed, hooking her arms around your thighs as she drags you down until your hips are hanging off the edge, putting your legs over her incredibly built shoulders. You laugh, and manage to snag a pillow before she takes you too far, tucking it behind your head. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you say, threading your hand through her hair again. “You’re very beautiful,” you murmur, almost absentmindedly. Cara’s body burns hotter at your words, and she dives right in at the apex of your thighs without any preamble, lapping at your dripping pussy as moans tears themselves out of your mouth. “Oh,  _ stars-- _ ” Your toes are curling when she licks a broad stripe up, tugging at her hair. 

“You’re so sweet,” she says. Then a pause. “Literally and figuratively,” she adds, and goes right back to devouring you eagerly. It was almost too much. You had barely any time to rest from your last orgasm, and here Cara was, bringing you closer to that precipice almost immediately. You take your fingers out of her hair to adjust the pillow behind you so that you can somewhat prop yourself up, and you let out another gush of wetness that Cara automatically laps up when you see her other hand has disappeared into her pants, playing with herself as she eats you out. With that image seared into your mind, and with how Cara was playing with your clit with her tongue, eyes dark with lust, it takes no time at all for you cum again, toes curling as you grasp at the sheets underneath you, the breath being knocked out of you.

Cara pauses for a brief moment to suck a mark into your inner thigh. You can see that her face is glistening all the way down her chin, and you curl up to kiss her to the best of your abilities, moaning again at the taste of yourself in her mouth. Cara surges up, pinning you against the bed as the hand in her pants move faster. Her other hand stays strong on your shoulder as she slips her tongue into your warm mouth. You whimper, running your hands over her, sneaking your hands up her shirt to scratch down her back. Cara growls at the action. She sits up, nearly ripping her pants off as she pushes it down her hips. This time, as she goes to down to chase after her own orgasm, you slip your hand down with it, rubbing that tight bundle of nerves as Cara stretches herself with her own fingers. “You’re so sweet,” she gasps, pressing open-mouthed kisses, wet and wanting. “Sweet, sweet girl, so nice to me, so willing--” She grunts, switching to the other side to plant more kisses. “You’d let me do anything, hm?” Even as you’re spent, legs still twitching, you feel more arousal build up. 

“Cara,” you moan. 

“Yes,” she hisses. “Say my name again, say it- say it again.” You call her again, a little more urgently, voice pitches upwards as you speed up until finally she cums, collapsing on you and biting down harshly at the junction of your shoulder as you cry out. 

You lay there, panting as you lazily mouth at her neck, tasting the salt of her skin as you rub her back affectionately and pull your hand out from where it was trapped between your bodies. Sleep tugs at you, but you sigh and gently nudge her. “We have to clean up,” you say. Waking up still gross and sweaty for a Sorgan summer did not sound nice. Your voice is rough, and you’re sure you’ll have hand-shaped bruises and a variety of other colorful marks on you when the day breaks. “Would you like me to draw a bath?”

“Only if you’ll come with me,” she murmurs. Cara props herself on her elbows to look at you, at how you were glowing and still flush from the orgasms she had drawn from you. She frowns as she runs a deft finger over where she hid bitten you. “Sorry about that.” You smile and pull her in for a fleeting kiss before you wiggle out from under her. 

“I like it,” you say quickly, and pad to the refresher, trying to ignore the self-satisfied smirk Cara has when your wobbly legs almost give out from under you. You feel wonderfully sore, and when you catch yourself in the reflection of the water, you see exactly how  _ ruined  _ you look. Your lips are red from bruising kisses, eyes still shiny with tears left unshed, and your hair is an absolute mess. Your neck looks like a battlefield, dark marks forming all the way down to your breasts and the one on your inner thigh. You run a finger over the deepest, darkest one that Cara had put on you. It’s sore as you press into it, but it makes you preen.

As the water heats up, you feel warm hands sliding around your waist, Cara sweeping your hair away and pecking kisses up the back of your neck. You stifle a laugh. “You are insatiable,” you say, but a warm feeling starts bubbling in your belly again. You slip from her grasp and go into the water to buy some time, and Cara follows straight after. She pulls your back flush against her bare chest as her hands start dancing downwards. 

“You think you got one more in you?” she husks in your ear. You grin.

“Anything for the winner.”


End file.
